Chapter 39: Marcus Elias Ravenfield (2)
Marcus chuckled to himself as he rummaged through the polished wooden drawer beside his canopy bed, pulling out something that felt modest yet still noble in design—a simple white shirt made from soft, finely woven fabric and a pair of black pants that hugged just enough to be tailored without being ostentatious. The material shimmered faintly under the warm glow of the chandelier above, a subtle reminder that even simplicity had its price in this world.
"Let's do this then!"
He exhaled, planting his feet in front of the tall standing mirror beside the bed. His gaze met the reflection—his new face. It was hauntingly close to the one he'd known his whole life: the same sharp jawline, familiar brow, even the mole near his left temple.
He wasn't sure if that made this transition easier... or more disturbing.
"What a coincidence..."
He murmured, cracking a small smile. Was it fate? Laziness on the system's part? Either way, it was unsettling how easy it was to see himself in this stranger's skin.
With a deep breath and a faint nod to his reflection, Marcus turned on his heel and exited the room. The soft thud of the door closing behind him echoed down the quiet hall as he stepped into the corridor with reluctant confidence—ready, or at least willing, to face the life he'd inherited. Ready to become Marcus, truly and fully.
He made his way down the hall, the plush carpet muffling his footsteps, then descended the grand staircase into the sprawling foyer. The polished marble beneath his shoes gleamed like still water. From the left of the mansion's ornate entrance, a faint clatter of plates and soft murmurs drifted through the air—accompanied by the unmistakable aroma of roasted meats and spiced vegetables.
"Well... at least finding the dining room was easy."